


Well, Shit: The Varric Tethras Story

by Kosho



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Be gentle, Hawke in Dragon Age: Inquisition, Multi, Non-Canon Inquisitor (Dragon Age), OT3, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Preemptive tags, Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Rogue Hawke (Dragon Age), Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24229864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosho/pseuds/Kosho
Summary: “Varric, What did you do?” She shrieked.“You’ll have to be more specific. I’ve done a lot of shit.” He muttered.———In a strange twist, Varric is the survivor of the Conclave.Big love to Amata
Relationships: Adaar/Hawke, Adaar/Hawke/Varric Tethras, Female Adaar/Varric Tethras, Female Mage Adaar/Varric Tethras, Hawke/Varric Tethras
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

Varric awoke with one very pissed off looking Seeker looming over him, Leliana doing her best to stop her from wringing his neck. He had no chance to ask any questions, like what the weird, glowing shit on his hand was, or what had her so angry. Cassandra grabbed him by his coat, fuming. 

“Varric, What did you do?” She shrieked. 

“You’ll have to be more specific. I’ve done a lot of shit.” He muttered. 

* * *

“So what is it you want me to do now? Found Giselle, did your autograph tour of Val Royeaux. You ask me? It’s time for a break.” Varric said with a shrug. 

“There’s always meeting Fiona. It may be worth looking into.” Leliana suggested. 

“We did see the Lord Seeker. The Templars may be an option.” Cassandra added. 

“So. Mages then.” Varric said with a shrug. 

Really, that was no choice at all. He’d lived through enough trouble just in the last seven years to sense trouble a mile away, and that was trouble he didn’t want or need. Plus, there was no question Hawke would eventually show up, there was nothing he could say to change that. Hawke spent a lifetime trying to avoid Templars, and he couldn’t begin to imagine that conversation. 

“You are not even going to  _ consider  _ meeting with Lord Seeker Lucius?” Cassandra asked. 

“Look, Seeker, you might not want to believe this, but if he can brush off what happened  _ that _ casually, in  _ addition _ to all the shit I’ve seen firsthand? That’s not the help I want to be associated with.” Varric said, adding “I mean, maybe I shouldn’t be so picky, all things considered, but you asked me to decide, and that’s my decision. If you don’t like it,  _ you _ go talk to him.” 

They exchanged glances between each other in silence for quite a while. Finally, Cassandra sighed, throwing up her hands. 

“They will make the arrangements.” She told him, shaking her head. “The Maker certainly has a sense of humor to make _ you  _ too useful to get rid of.” 

“Well, you know, that’s what I’m here for. Getting under your skin is just a perk.” He said, looking quite pleased. 

“Ugh. Just...go. I will let you know when we can proceed.” Cassandra sighed. 

“As you wish. You know where to find me.” He said. 

Varric left the war room, not wasting time crossing the yard to the tavern. It wasn’t exactly The Hanged Man, but it wasn’t the worst place he’d been to either. Would be better with an audience and some cards. Curly wanted him to expand the Inquisition’s influence, perhaps there’d be more opportunities to recruit some people. There had been some likely opportunities in Val Royeaux, but he had never been one to enjoy overly formal gatherings and he’d written too many stories to make following the mysterious arrow sound any less like a setup. 

If there wasn’t any interest, there were always a few strings he could pull. Maybe rustle up some old contacts, get some support. Most of the old group were off doing their own thing, nothing that could really be dropped. 

Varric sighed. Still early afternoon. His plan had been originally to spend the day in the tavern and go to bed, but he’d been sent all over, pretty much non-stop. He still had letters to write, and writing to work on. If he stayed here too long, he’d either have to stay up longer than he wanted or give up on the idea of getting any personal business done. 

Flissa made her way over when she had a few moments between serving other patrons, setting a full mug in front of him, smiling warmly. 

“Figured you’d want the usual, I’ll be by with the bottle in just a moment dear.” She told him. 

Varric stared at the drink for a moment, sighing. “Not today, just this.” 

“Is Lady Pentaghast keeping you busy?” Flissa asked. 

“You have no idea…” Varric laughed humorlessly. “If I so much as thinking of sitting down -“ 

Before he could finish his sentence, one of the scouts dashed over to him, a stack of papers in his hand. 

“Excuse me, my Lord Herald, I’ve got some information for you. I’m supposed to make sure you get these.” He said, handing them off before dashing off again. 

“See what I mean? Just saw them before I got here.” He muttered. “I should look these over.” 

Flissa left him to his work, smiling sympathetically. He took a drink, reading through them. Looked like Leliana wanted him to find a Warden in the Hinterlands. Another report of a mercenary company that wanted him to check them out. Reports of a Vashoth mage, not exactly a rebel, just a member of a company opting to lend the fledgling Inquisition one of their best to assist in the efforts. Well. That  _ was _ helpful, actually. Might solve some of his problems, actually. The Warden would probably be the easiest lead to look into. The Storm Coast was a way off. The Vashoth might keep until the meeting with the mages. Waiting in Redcliffe, by the docks apparently. 

Varric drained about half the ale, trying to decide what he thought about taking on a Qunari. He knew the potential of those under the Qun, as well as Tal-Vashoth rebels, but he had yet to meet one who had presumably never experienced the Qun. Didn’t give much information except to say “Adaar”. No idea if that was a first name, a last name, male , female, any other possible configuration, not that it really mattered beyond figuring out who to look for. The horns would likely give it away. 

Finishing up, he took the mug up to the counter to spare Flissa the extra trouble. He put some coins next to it, heading back to his room. Letters didn’t write themselves, unfortunately, and he was pretty sure Cassandra wouldn’t appreciate trouble coming here because he had failed to get it done. He reached for the door, his hand aching unexpectedly. Cursing under his breath he closed the door, poking and prodding at the odd glowing mark. At least it came and went. It’d be worse if it was constant. Interesting thing otherwise. Hummed a bit in his skin, not unlike Hawke’s magic. 

“This shit is weird…” he sighed. 


	2. One Big Mage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was originally intending this to turn into a strict Hawke ship, but somehow the idea evolved. So...get used to Asiha I guess?

Varric shook his hand, grimacing as he walked through the gates. He’d managed to track down Blackwall, though he had no useful information. Didn’t take a lot of effort to figure out he was hiding something, not that he particularly felt like calling him on it. The Iron Bull came next. He expected tall, everyone looked small compared to a Qunari, but Bull was especially giant. 

All that was left was finding Adaar at the docks, and this meeting with the Grand Enchanter, who, evidently wasn’t expecting them to show up. Someone meant to trap them, but to what end, he could only guess. 

“Does it hurt?” Solas asked. 

“No! Not at all.” Varric said with mock pleasantry. “Of course it hurts. Flares up at the worst times. Or maybe you thought I meant to very nearly shoot you earlier.” 

“I was only asking, there’s no need for -“ Solas began. 

“Can you do anything about it?” Varric questioned. 

“I’m afraid I can’t.” Solas said. 

“Exactly. No one seems to be able to. Forgive me if I’m not my cheerful, sunny self, I’ve got a glowing hand that seems to want to kill me. Maybe you forgot but dwarves and magic don’t go together, so maybe it’s  _ bothering me _ .” He groused. 

“I suppose that’s fair.” Solas admitted. 

“Anyway...I can see the docks from here. I’m not seeing any Qunari…” Varric switched the subject. 

“Oddly enough, I don’t either. I’m not sure if that’s a good sign or not.” Solas agreed quietly. 

Varric sighed, walking down towards the docks for a closer look. He stopped, watching a squatting, hooded figure produce a small stuffed bear for a little elven girl. 

“It’s alright. I said I’d protect you, and I meant it. No one is taking you away.” The voice said. 

The girl clutched the figure’s shoulder tightly, giggling when she was lifted. The figure rose up, had to be close to eight feet high. Varric nodded to himself. 

“You must be Adaar.” He said finally. 

The figure turned around, looking for the source of the voice. She looked down finally, smiling. It was a little disconcerting, honestly. First time he’d ever seen a Qunari smile quite like  _ that _ . 

“Ah! You must be the Herald of Andraste. My boss said I was supposed to wait here, was starting to think you weren’t coming.” She said pleasantly. “Right! Sorry. Asiha Adaar.”

“I…Varric Tethras.” He said. “The girl?” 

Really, it was already a lot to take in. She even towered over Bull, who seemed equally surprised by that. Guessing Qunari women weren’t normally  _ this _ tall. The girl pulled at her hood, long, curling horns spread past white hair, her face stitched across the bridge of her nose, hints of more across her throat. Been through some shit recently, looked like. 

“Ah. Yes, I’d imagine you weren’t told about her. This is Vasa. I’ve been caring for her for about a year or two.. Her family was…” she paused, reaching to cover her ears. “Killed, she had nowhere else to go, so...I took her in.” 

“Hard to believe a mercenary company would keep a kid around…” Bull said. 

“Of course not. Not usually, but she’s quite efficient. You should see her with a bow.” Asiha laughed. “No one quite expects it.” 

Okay. So maybe he wasn’t usually one for kids, and maybe he initially thought it was a terrible idea, but his interest was definitely piqued. 

“I’m not about to tell you no.” He admitted. 

Partly because the Inquisition could use the help, partly because she looked like she could break him in half without a second thought. No mage should be built like  _ that _ just from a staff, after all. No doubt she could handle mostly anything without breaking a sweat. If she was half as useful as he was assured? Worth it. 

“Excellent. Do you want me to go with you now, or should I meet you somewhere?” She asked. 

“If you’re up for it, come with. Otherwise, if you need a rest, there’s a scout at the gate that can show you where to go.” He said. 

“Things have been getting uneasy here. Would your scout mind taking Vasa back? I don’t want to put her in danger without need.” 

“I’m strong! I can help!” the girl insisted. 

“I like her already.” Varric laughed. 

“I know you can, but if something happened to you, I would be very sad.” She said. 

Varric led the way back to the nearest scout, and Asiha managed to convince her to go with. She said nothing, but the look in her onyx eyes promised a slow, painful death if anything happened, a sentiment Varric echoed quietly. 

“Take care of the kid, anything happens, you’re going to get to know Bianca very well.” He told him quietly, clapping a hand on his arm before waving him off. 

“Alright, time to go meet some mages, I guess.” He said. “You said things were getting  _ uneasy _ , can you elaborate?” 

Adaar frowned, rubbing the back of her neck. Kind of reminded him of Curly, and that somehow made him  _ more _ concerned. 

“You don’t know…” she sighed. “Maker, how do I explain…” 

Varric stopped short of the door to the tavern, ideally hoping to hear what to expect before potentially walking right into a trap. 

“Tevinter has taken control.” She said. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Varric asked. 

“Yeah...word is Fiona allied with Tevinter for refuge from the Templars. I tried to look into it more, but...big surprise, the magister doesn’t particularly like Qunari. Shocker, I know. I was told I could stay, but I wasn’t supposed to stray from the docks, except to leave…” she explained. 

“You let some Vint tell you what to do?” Bull asked. 

“I followed my orders. I was told to wait, so I waited. My job wasn’t to gather information. I did what I could without defying what was asked of me.” She said. 

“Huh.” Bull muttered. 

Really, he didn’t expect such a very nearly Qunari answer from a Vashoth, but considering she didn’t exactly blend in here, it wasn’t a terrible result. 

“Might as well get this over with. Might still be able to convince him to part with the mages at least for a little while. Would prefer they not have to deal with this at all, but...progress, I guess.” Varric muttered. 

“If this goes sideways, say the word and I’m ready.” She said. 

“Let’s save destroying Redcliffe as a last resort, alright?” He laughed nervously. 

“I meant...as you wish.” She trailed off. 

Varric pushes open the door, coming face to face with a very uneasy looking Fiona. The scout wasn’t wrong to say they weren’t exactly expected. He hoped Adaar was wrong about Tevinter, but he had a growing suspicion that she was probably right. This was looking more and more like a trap by the second. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not even plan there to ge a child and somehow there’s a child, and what is happening right now :(


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric has a chance to get to know Asiha a little bit.

Varric sat by the fire, helping people in the Hinterlands had taken a lot longer than he expected. The meeting had gone unusually, culminating in dealing with a rift in the middle of the chantry and being warned by both the magister’s son and his former student. Grabbing a handful of rocks, he sighed, skipping one across the lake. 

A long shadow danced across the fire, glancing over. He quietly observed the way Asiha gingerly lowered herself to sit by him. She tilted her head, watching the fire flicker back and forth lazily, the occasional ember rising up before vanishing. 

“A lot happened back there. What do you think?” Asiha asked, her tone neutral, neither curious sounding or concerned. “You didn’t appear to be out of your depth. I take it this sort of thing happens to you often?” 

Varric looked at her fully, grinning. Tossing another rock, he offered her a few when she held her hand out. Falling silent, she skidded one over the surface of the water. Not one who seemed like she had to fill silence with idle chatter. Sometimes the quiet was nice. He hoped she wasn’t always like that. The pointless conversations were sometimes comforting. 

“You have no idea. For a while there, shit like this was almost a daily occurrence.” Varric said with a chuckle. “I’m set on going after the mages, but it’s interesting. A cult after me? Weird magical shit? Whoever is pulling the strings clearly is going through a lot of trouble for me, and I’d like to know the whole story. I’m more interested in what  _ you _ think.” 

Asiha leaned back slowly, holding herself up on her elbow. The firelight danced over her, lingering on her face. Left shadows up her neck, and flickered over her stitches. She drew in a long, slow breath, exhaling with the same measure. 

“I think it’s a poor attempt at a trap. He was clearly expecting you. Failed to play it off completely. I’m unsure why, and a cult fits the evidence nicely...regardless of your decision, I’m with you. I am meant to be the weapon you point at your enemies. So point me however you choose.” Asiha told him. 

“And if you disagree?” Varric wondered. 

“My opinions are not a problem.” She said. Seeing the look he gave her, she sighed. “I agree with your choices so far. If you want me to tell you if ever I don’t, I will. That won’t deter me from doing as I was instructed.” 

Hunching over himself slightly, he grimaced. “What he said...that didn’t bother you?” 

Asiha’s lips twitched, drawing back into a smile, for just a moment. Perhaps he imagined the brief hint of sadness in her eyes, like the life had drained from them, hidden again in an instant. 

“He believes me to be Qunari. I offend him.” She replies simply. 

“Aren’t you?” Varric asked. 

“I’m Vashoth. I never knew the Qun. I am Qunari, but I’m not  _ Qunari.  _ I fit neither with others that look like me than I do among anyone else. It was the company that gave me my purpose, it is Vasa who gives me meaning.” Asiha explained. “I suspect you’d know how that feels. You’re a dwarf, but not of Orzammar. You are a dwarf, yet...not a  _ dwarf.”  _

Varric mulled over her words in thought. It made sense, both for him and for her. The assessment was not wrong. He was a dwarf in being, only. Everything that meant in Orzammar was the opposite of him. Under the Qun, he’d witnessed in Kirkwall what that would have meant to her. Mouth stitched, eyes covered, arms bound. No freedom of any kind, bound to follow her handler like some beaten dog who was no longer able to do anything but what it was told. Whether from blind faith , or duty, or fear, he couldn’t begin to imagine. Those that turned Tal-Vashoth we’re hunted down, the only commonality being a potential for mercenary work. The horns alone gave most a reason to pause, to keep the dangerous creature away, and without willing submission, the Qunari had no use for her either.

“So. Two of a kind then, huh?” He asked finally. 

“It would appear that way. Get to know me. You’ll find I am capable of much more than simply following my orders. Your Inquisition offered safety for Vasa. Despite the magister’s protestations against my presence at your side, here you sit, talking to me like a person, not avoiding me as though I have a plague, or like perhaps I’m so uncivilized that I may attack you for looking at me strangely. I appreciate that. I appreciate you for it.” She told him. Tossing the last stone she had, her hand came up, idly rubbing the stitches over the bridge of her nose. “Forgive me. I was never very comfortable with these sort of conversations. I fear I tend to ramble, and even I find it in poor taste. We’ve only just met. I shouldn’t pour so much of myself to you so quickly.” 

“What can I say? I have that kind of face. People often tell me more than they mean to.” He laughed. “If it’s any consolation, and I’m sure it really isn’t. I don’t mind. I like it. I’m always the one telling the stories. Sometimes, it’s nice to hear one for a change.” 

He leaned back, grabbing a few pieces of wood to toss on the fire. The fire crackled and popped, swallowing it hungrily, before returning once more to the easy, gentle sway as though it had been sated. 

“I’m thinking Sunflower.” He said. 

The completely different subject, combined with the suddenness of the statement was confusing. She blinked once, slowly, but said nothing, simply waiting for a meaning, elaboration, some sort of clarity in context with which to frame his words. When he offered none, she sat up, deciding to ask. 

“You...garden?” She guessed. 

“No, not me.” Varric admitted. “I meant for you. What do you think?” 

“I...am confused. Are you asking if I want one?” She questioned. 

“A nickname. I think it suits you.” He clarified. 

“I like it.” She said. “Why that, though?” 

“Bright. Tall. Stretching towards the sun with purpose.” Varric explained. “Not unlike yourself.” 

Her eyes slowly drifted from the water, to the fire, then upward towards the moon. Her shoulders rose and fell in one fluid motion. 

“I’ve never had a nickname before. Is that truly how you see me?” Asiha wondered. 

“Yeah. I suppose so. Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” Varric said with a shrug. 

Grimacing, he clutched his hand. Damned thing always picked the least convenient times to flare up. Not that there really was an actual opportune time.

Asiha observed, her eyes falling to his hand. Reaching in her pack, she grabbed a vial. She held his hand, yanking the stopper out between her teeth before emptying the contents into his glowing palm. Dropping the vial carefully, she massaged the cold solution in. It burned worse for a moment, then slowly eased the ache until it had faded to the barest whisper of discomfort. 

“Better?” She asked. 

“Much, actually…” he admitted. 

“It’s easy enough to make. My company has an alchemist. I’m rubbish at growing plants, but with access to the proper supplies, I can make it. Let me know if you need it.” She advised. 

Varric snuck a glance at her. Definitely not what he’d expected. Unlike those he met in Kirkwall (and disregarding completely that he’d never chanced to meet a Qunari of her persuasion before), she was clever, nurturing, imposing sure, but gentle outside of battle, it seemed. Reminded him a lot of Hawke in many ways. Would definitely be interesting to see how they got on when he finally decided to show up...


End file.
